


Penname: The Hero of Time

by Michdie



Category: The Legend of Zelda: The Ocarina of Time
Genre: Background Relationships, Child Timeline, F/M, Headcanon, Link (Legend of Zelda) Needs a Hug, Link and Malon have a ton of kids, Link has depression, Short One Shot, my poor baby
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-18
Updated: 2020-02-18
Packaged: 2021-02-27 23:29:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,561
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22784098
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Michdie/pseuds/Michdie
Summary: Someone has written a book slandering the royal family and calling them out on their dark secrets, so the King orders Impa to find out who would do such a thing. Except, the book isn't slander, and Impa already knows who wrote it.
Relationships: Link/Malon (Legend of Zelda)
Kudos: 74





	Penname: The Hero of Time

**Author's Note:**

> This is a headcanon of mine.

Impa sat in her study, staring at the two books in front of her, one titled _The Ocarina of Time_ and the other titled _Majora’s Mask_. The second was set in a magical land where the protagonist faced horror after horror, forced to relive the same three days over again in a journey that was as physically exhausting as it was mentally. But she didn’t care about that book.

The first book, _The Ocarina of Time_ , was set right here in Hyrule, with real locations and, though their names were most likely changed to maintain privacy, real people. Had the book flopped, this would have only been a minor trouble, but instead it was wildly successful, copies flying off the shelves faster than could be printed, the contents read by seemingly every man, woman, and child in the land. And so, it was a problem.

The King let out a growl behind her, thumbing through his own copy with increasing worry. “How could anyone know of such things?!” he asked no one in particular.

Impa would have liked to know the answer to that question as well. The Shadow Temple, the bottom of the well in Kakariko Village, as well as a plethora of other locations in the book were supposed to be a secret to the average Hyrulian, but the person who wrote these books, their penname: The Hero of Time, appeared to be more than an average Hyrulian. If he was a Sheikah, then he was a traitor to the highest degree. If he was a member of the royal family, then he obviously didn’t mind throwing away his right to the crown. But Impa didn’t think he was either of those things. Though she had an idea who he actually was.

“And worst of all,” the King went on, “Slandering my sweet daughter’s name!”

Ah, yes. Though most characters in the book had the luxury of privacy, three did not, namely Lord Ganondorf (who was imprisoned many years ago), Impa herself, and Princess Zelda.

“Disguised as a _man_ ,” the King spat, glaring at the page, “Who does this Hero of Time think he is? He is ruining my precious girl’s reputation!”

“On the contrary,” Impa said regrettably, turning to look out the window to Castle Town in the distance, “Princess Zelda has never been more popular among her subjects. The people like someone strong and humble.”

“I would have hoped she’d gain popularity through poise and elegance,” the king growled, ignoring her last statement, “Not by some pervert’s cross-dressing fantasy!”

Impa sighed. She wanted to argue that her subjects didn’t see it that way, and most of them didn’t, but she heard the whispers in dark alleys at night outside of the milk bar. But that was in an alley by the milk bar at night; she would’ve heard unsavory whispers about the princess regardless around there.

“I do not want my wife put through this,” the prince consort, Princess Zelda’s timid husband, said from his place in the corner of the room. “The children already tell me she is more manly than I am.”

“We must get to the bottom of this!” the king said, standing up and throwing the book to the floor. “I won’t stand for the royal family’s reputation being destroyed like this.”

“I’ll look into it,” Impa said. The king and prince consort took their leave, and she allowed herself a moment to relax.

Impa did not believe there was any malice behind the publication of the book, though everyone in the court thought otherwise. It seemed more of a personal journey of an individual rather than an attempt to call out the royal family on their misdeeds in the past. And, though Princess Zelda was a bit surprised to see her portrayal in the book (gasping loudly when she read that Sheik had been herself all along), she quite liked the idea of dressing up in a disguise and helping people just to be helpful, not because she had to present an image.

Impa stepped back to her desk, flipping her book open to the end of chapter two, giving it a skim.

_I retreated from the Princess, intending to sneak my way back through the garden, but before I could make my escape, I ran into a woman who introduced herself as Impa, Princess Zelda’s handmaid, though she looked more like a warrior than a handmaid, but how could I have told the difference?_

_“Everything is exactly as the princess foretold,” she mused stoically. “You are a courageous lad, setting out on a big adventure, aren’t you?” I nodded, and she smiled softly. “I thought so.” Impa squared her shoulders and stood straight, and I unconsciously followed suit, trying to make myself out to be bigger than I was._

_“The Princess told me that I am the one to teach the hero a royal melody.” My ears perked up at the word ‘Hero.’ “I have played this song for Princess Zelda as a lullaby ever since she was a baby,” Impa continued, “There is mysterious power in these notes, so listen carefully.”_

_She brought her fingers to her lips, whistling a short melody. I played the tune back for her, receiving some correction before I could play it flawlessly on my ocarina. Impa smiled and nodded in approval when I successfully played Zelda’s Lullaby._

Impa set the book down and let out a sigh. Only she and the princess met the boy who was there that day, and his name wasn’t Riknu as said in the book. His name was Link. Had Impa been any less superstitious, she wouldn’t have been able to fathom the notion that the sweet, melancholic rancher who delivered the royal kitchen’s milk was some kind of hero sent by the gods. But being superstitious was in the job description.

Impa stashed the book in her bag and left the castle, stopping only to gather her horse, and galloping down the road, through Castle Town, and out the front gate. The ranch was close, only a few miles away, so she would arrive shortly. She wished she didn’t have to do this, she really did. Impa didn’t even know what she would say to him when she got there. Maybe ask for some kind of explanation as to why he was exposing the royal family’s darkest secrets. Perhaps Link was more malicious than she originally thought and wanted to dismantle the government. She shook her head. Link was a simple rancher with a beautiful family, not some radical activist.

Impa spotted the hill that Lon Lon Ranch sat atop of and spurred her horse on, racing up the sloping ground and through the gate before slowing to a trot. She passed between two buildings, the farmhouse on one side of her and the barn on the other. In the paddock nearby, many horses grazed, mingling with a few sheep and cows. She could see a teenager running around and playing with them, and a tall man exiting the silo in the distance. She dismounted and made her way to the farmhouse and knocked on the door, hearing more children screaming inside.

The door was opened by a young boy with startling blue eyes and strawberry-blond hair, nearly the spitting image of his father. In that instant, and for only the briefest moment, Impa was standing in the castle garden again, teaching a young boy Zelda’s Lullaby.

“Hello,” he said cheerfully, waving his little hand.

“Hello, little one,” Impa said with an easy smile. “Is your father here?”

“He’s in—”

“Mido,” a woman’s voice said from inside the door, “Who’s here?” The door opened wider, and Malon stood in the doorway behind her son with another child on her hip, crying her little eyes out. But Malon’s own eyes grew wide. “Lady Impa! To what do we owe this pleasure?” She smiled, showing a full set of teeth, and eyes crinkling at the corners.

“I was wondering where your husband is,” she said. “I must speak with him.”

“Why, he’s in the barn,” Malon said, nodding to the other building, “Muckin’ out the stalls, so I don’t think he’s too presentable right now.” She laughed.

“That’s quite alright,” Impa said.

“Mido, honey, could you show Lady Impa to the barn?” Malon asked her young son.

“Yeah.” Mido took off running as Malon turned behind her to yell at some more of her children.

“Hey! Your baby brother is not a toy! Put him down!” The child on her hip began to cry even more at her mother’s outburst.

“Thank you, Malon,” Impa said. They shared a smile and a nod before Impa followed after Mido, leaving the mother to deal with her numerous children.

“Papa’s right in here!” Mido called, pulling the doors open and racing inside. “Papa! Visitor for you!”

Impa stepped into the barn, letting her eyes adjust to the dim lighting. The building was empty of animals, save for a hound dog curled in on itself in the corner. All the stall doors were wide open, and a delightful mixture of hay and animal dropping sat in the center of the room. It didn’t smell very nice either, but Impa didn’t mind. She’d smelled worse. Link came out of one of the stalls with his giggling son on his leg and a big smile on his face, but the smile fell away when he saw her.

“Impa,” he said shortly.

“Hello, Link,” she replied.

They had a brief staring contest before he looked down at his son. “Mido,” he said, patting the boy’s head, “Run inside and help Mamma with dinner. I need to have a private conversation with Lady Impa.”

“But I wanna stay with you,” Mido whined.

“How about,” Link crouched down and rested a large hand on the boy’s back, “If you go now and help Mamma with dinner, I’ll teach you how to ride a horse later.”

The boy’s face lit up like the sun and he nodded his head vigorously. “Yeah!”

“Then go on now,” Link said, straightening up and patting Mido’s shoulder. He took off running once again. “And don’t tell Mamma!” he called, “It’s our secret!”

Impa watched him run out the door before turning back to a chuckling Link.

“Malon’s gonna kill me,” he said with a smile.

“Well,” Impa said, “My lips are sealed.”

Link grinned. “So,” he said, crossing his arms and leaning against a stall doorframe, “I take it this isn’t a social visit.”

Impa studied his now guarded expression, searching for any clues of the boy from the story in his eyes. She reached into her bag and pulled out the book, holding the cover up for him to see.

“Have you read this book?” she asked.

“‘Course,” he said with a shrug, “Everyone halfway to Faron has.” He swallowed, and his eyes flickered away before returning to her face.

Impa narrowed her eyes a fraction. “It’s an interesting tale,” she said, thumbing through the pages. “But I’ve always preferred… _non-fiction_.”

Link’s face remained expressionless, but his eyes bored into hers. She stared back, unwilling to back down. He looked away.

“Well,” he said, “It’s not everyone’s cup of tea.”

“Perhaps not,” she said, cocking her head, “But I do wonder what would possess someone to write such a tale. Don’t they know what it would do to the royal family?”

“Perhaps it’s not about the royal family,” Link said, picking up his tools to return them to their hooks on the wall. “Maybe they didn’t think about it.” Impa watched him place his tools in their proper spots.

“Why do you think he wrote it?” she asked.

“How should I know?”

“Why would _you_ write something like that? If you were to,” she corrected.

Link looked back at her with a frown. “I _didn’t_ ,” he spat, “So I couldn’t tell you.”

Impa met his glare with a neutral gaze. “Hypothetically.”

Link laughed softly without humor and turned away again with a sigh. He ran a tired hand through his hair. “Hypothetically, huh?”

“If these events were to happen to you…why write a book about them?” she asked. “Why not keep it a secret?”

Link sat on a stool used when milking cows and looked up at her, resigned. “Hypothetically…” he began slowly, “If I went through such…traumatic events, naturally I would seek counseling. And perhaps my therapist would tell me that it’s good to write the things down that you want to work through.”

“Most people take that to mean a diary,” Impa said.

“Well, most people make better decisions than I do,” Link retorted.

“So you thought that publishing a book about your…adventures would help you work things out?” Impa asked.

“Did you read the second book?” Link asked casually, as if they were members of a book club, discussing their latest novel. Impa affirmed. “Then you know that the hero resented the fact that he was not remembered as such.”

“That’s what this is about?” Impa asked calmly, expertly concealed anger rising in her head. “You wanted people to praise you? To laude you for a quest they couldn’t possibly have known about?”

Link shrugged, his eyes turning downcast. “It would’ve been nice after all that,” he said glumly.

And, just as quickly as it grew, Impa’s anger died. This was not a prideful man seeking fame and accolades; he was a kid who had to grow up too soon, doing a thankless job that ravaged his mind and left him to suffer by himself. Before she had come to his ranch, Impa hadn’t given Link’s quest in Termina a second thought, but she internally chastised herself for not realizing what those horrors could do to a person; could do to a child. No one deserved that, least of all Link.

“Are you going to arrest me?” he asked in a flat voice.

“No.” Impa turned to leave. “Have a nice day, Link.”

His eyes grew with surprise. “Wait!” he said, jumping up. “What are you _going_ to do?”

“The king asked me to find out who wrote the book, and I have,” she said, “He never told me what to do when I found you.” Impa strode out of the barn with Link trailing behind. “So it looks like you’re off the hook.”

“Thank you,” he said, matching her pace. “I’m sorry I didn’t realize I would cause trouble for Princess Zelda.”

Impa shrugged. “Worry not. All we have to do is keep people away from the dungeons around Hyrule, but it’s likely they won’t even be able to get in. As for the princess,” Impa paused and sent a smirk his way, “I think she rather likes her new public persona.”

Link smiled. “You would’ve been proud of her, you know,” he said, “She made a great Sheikah.”

Impa laughed. “I’m sure she did.” They stopped by her horse, and she mounted its back. “Have a nice day,” she said a second time, “And for all our sakes, don’t write any more books.”

Link laughed. He was about to reply when his wife screamed from the front door. “Link, you are _not_ teaching our five-year-old to ride a horse!”

“Good luck,” Impa said. And with that, she was off, back to her princess in Hyrule Castle, leaving Link to his quiet life on the ranch.

**Author's Note:**

> My poor baby Link.


End file.
